


All That We See Or Seem

by Draxscanas



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen, Multi, Other, hal/alex if you squint, hal/tom if you squint, hal/tom/alex if you SQUINT REALLY HARD, rated for some mild swearing b/c better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draxscanas/pseuds/Draxscanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dream of this life must end, and so too must the dreamers within it. Post series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That We See Or Seem

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Edgar Allen Poe's _Dream Within a Dream_. The end of this might not make complete sense if you haven't seen the extra [scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30fnJqB_3Cw).

At first, he cannot stop looking at himself. Not that Hal is any more vain than the next person, but after almost 500 years of empty mirrors, windows, and bathwater, it can practically frighten you out of your skin to catch yourself in the corner of your eye. Especially when you’ve actually  _forgotten what you look like_. Once, half-asleep and stumbling, he’d screamed like a young maid when he turned and saw a strange man staring out of Alex’s large cheval mirror. Her shrill shrieks of laughter brought Tom running in alarm, and when he’d asked what was the matter, Hal had turned on his heel and locked himself in his room for almost two days. He would have continued to reside there in mortification for much longer, but he’d discovered recently that whereas in the past eating had been something that was optional, now it was bollocking necessary. So, head held high and face red from irritation and embarrassment, he’d made a long walk of shame downstairs to the kitchen to search for something that hadn’t been devoured by Hurricane Millar. He was positive that the insufferable girl would never let him forget the whole situation for as long as he lived.

 

_As long as he lived._

Such an innocent turn-of-phrase that now had so much more meaning that he could have ever thought possible. Difficult to comprehend and much more difficult to actually carry out--there were still times that Hal forgot to breathe, and it wouldn’t be until he was dizzy and slightly panicked that instinct would kick in and remind him to inhale. There were also several nights where he jolted awake, gasping, heart pounding in his ears and throbbing in his head, chest heaving painfully to recover the oxygen his body had learned to deny itself for decades. He started avoiding sleep after that, though he had yet to admit it to either of his housemates. They seemed to be taking to their new lives much easier than he, and he had no wish to corrupt that, not after all the grief he had caused them.

In hindsight, perhaps that is when he first begins to catch on. Alex and Tom were absolutely beside themselves, reveling in the newness of their rebirth like young birds in first flight. While Hal struggled to rediscover himself, the two of them howled their joy, dancing and drinking and feasting (in Alex’s case, that was putting it  _mildly_ ). Yet Hal said nothing, taking his own respite in quietly observing, sitting on the couch watching Roadshow, smirking at Tom’s utter bafflement when Alex beat him arm-wrestling; following behind each of their steps, broom and marigolds in hand. It was enough.

He only really noticed that something was off when he returned from a walk to find Tom working in the back garden. This was not abnormal, but since the day was a rather warm one, Tom had slung his shirt over one of the bushes to try and cool himself off as he trimmed back some of the hedgerows. When he’d turned his head to call a bright greeting, it suddenly hit Hal that the other man’s scars were gone. Completely. And he hadn’t noticed. It was understandable that he wouldn’t know about the absence of the large stripes down Tom’s back, but to miss the obvious one spreading down from his  _head_ , that was idiotic. Hal had simply stood there and stared, jacket half-off his torso and gaze locked firmly onto Tom’s body. The no-longer-werewolf had frowned, brows pulling upwards as he returned the stare, lifting up his hands in a shrug.

  
“Uh, Hal? Wha’s wrong wif ya?”

“Aw, he’s just struck silly at the sight of ye, loverboy~” Alex crowed, also half-naked and lounging on the patio, toasting herself in the sun with ice-cream in hand. She’d been wishing for weather like this for almost three days, and she wasn’t about to waste it. “Ye  _are_  quite a sight, all sweaty an’ covered in dirt.”

Hal had spluttered out a bizarre noise, tossing a glare in her direction. She simply tipped her sunglasses forward to waggle her brows at him before throwing her head back with a cackle of glee. Tom, looking mildly bemused (and a bit bashful), simply shook his head and dropped the subject, content to get back to actually building the swimming pool he’d mentioned months before. Hal, disgruntled, took one last look at Tom’s bare back before turning and heading inside (he was doing that a lot lately: slamming doors with frustrated huffs).

As he furiously scrubbed the kitchen after dinner that night to keep himself awake, he kept going back to the scars’ disappearance. Surely, despite their curses being cured, they’d bear the marks of them regardless? The Devil’s defeat notwithstanding, the three of them had still endured the experience of it. They had still lived their lives up until that point, had still experienced death and the Hunger and full moons. Those memories did not simply vanish along with their supernatural powers, nor should the marks of those memories. It just did not make sense.

Later, while he was drying himself off from a bath, his gaze drifted down to his right shoulder. He stopped. Brows furrowing and mouth slowly falling open, he hastily turned to better look at his arm, fingers coming up to touch his skin in shock. His burn--the nasty patch of mangled flesh left by Tom’s blood--was gone. Just like the werewolf scars. Eyes wide, he then began to really look himself over, and with more and more disquiet he noticed certain changes. Burn mark aside, he was also missing several smaller scars and a rather large one on his calf from a spectacular battle with Lady Catherine. But what threw him for the biggest loop was that he lacked a few imperfections: a small mole behind his ear that he’d wanted gone since he was a child, a few age-earned wrinkles, and that one toenail that had never quite managed to grow itself correctly. Shaken, he pulled his robe tight around his form and practically fled the washroom.

Bit by bit, things began falling into place for Hal. Or, rather, things began falling apart. None of them had a job presently, but somehow not a soul had come to ask for rent, nor was the water, cable, or electricity turned off. In fact, not a single bill had been delivered to their house for weeks. Tom and Alex hadn’t noticed, but considering Hal was the responsible one who insisted that things be paid up on time, it was natural that they wouldn’t be worried.

Still, Hal paid attention. There was not a mark left behind on Alex’s head from when they’d fought Hatch, though the wound had been deep enough that she’d needed stitches from the hospital. The laugh lines around her mouth and nose also seemed lessened. Meanwhile, the acne on Tom’s face had been smoothed out, as well as the deep creases in his forehead, and even his accent sounded  _corrected_  at times, especially if Hal made a snide remark about it. Not to mention that all his clothes suddenly seemed to fit him better, including that ghastly yellow button-up and the too-large suit gifted to him by that con man (that discovery had Hal muttering darkly to himself for hours).

But it wasn’t until the three of them were sitting in that restaurant, wondering about how in the world Alex’s father and brothers had accepted her story of amnesia so easily--had actually let her leave after only  _two days_ , without fuss, when they had thought her dead for nigh on a  _year_ \--that Hal finally gave in to suspicion. And when the waiter handed him that deck of cards, that bloody deck of cards, the camel’s back finally broke, and so too did the expertly crafted dream.

Hal had said it himself, hadn’t he?  _You should have put us together. Everything is incomplete without them._  He’d given the Devil all that was needed to weave such an intricate spider’s web. But they’d defeated it, the three of them. They’d seen through it, and they would defeat everything else, whatever it took, so long as they were together.

“When we finally kick ‘is arse back to Hell, I want ye to piss on the ashes, Thomas.”

“Alex! That’s disgustin’!”

“If we have to do that fuckin’ ritual again, I might not be around to do it meself.” she retaliated, and to hear her bravado wavering cut like a knife.

Tom felt it too, his reply thin; strained. “I ain’t makin’ no promises.”

“What I want you two to do for  _me_  is to tie me in the basement," Hal said softly.

They looked at him. He swallowed.

“Make sure you do it right this time, yes? Don’t let him win. Don’t let him ruin this any more than he already has.”

A pause. Two quick nods, a clasping together of their hands.

  
  
_It was time to wake up._

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed when I was watching the final episode that Tom's big nasty scar on his head was gone. At first I thought it was just an oversight (maybe they'd gotten a bit lazy that day, w/e) but then as it continued on, I saw that the scar was just not there. Poof. And that didn't make sense to me. So I used the ever-observant Hal to do it for me. First time writing for this fandom, so let me know what you think in your feedback!


End file.
